


What's in a Name?

by lyrana



Series: The Order 1886 collection [5]
Category: The Order: 1886
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrana/pseuds/lyrana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A headcanon that Sebastian calls Lafayette by the wrong name whenever he is angry. Malory always feels ashamed, and Lafayette doesn't understand why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name?

Richard.

That was the name his mentor would call him every once in a while. Every time Lafayette made a mistake, or did something reckless, or just didn’t listen, Sebastian Malory would scold him and sometimes the name Richard would slip. And every time he did, Lafayette would watch his mentor’s face change from angry to wistful, almost sad. He’d grow distant, lose track of what he was saying. The argument or scolding would typically end right then and there; sometimes Sebastian would pat his shoulder and whisper “let’s go”, other times he’d just turn and leave, not looking at Lafayette right in the eye for several days.

He knew Sebastian felt ashamed, but he couldn’t understand why. His mother used to call him by the wrong name all of the time when he was a child, so it wasn’t something Lafayette wasn’t used to.

 

Lafayette remembers having asked Grayson over drinks one night if he had any idea; he was, after all, his closest and oldest friend. Unfortunately, Grayson did not have any answers. He told him he’d never heard Sebastian talk about anyone by the name of Richard.

“Could you ask him?” Lafayette had asked.

“Not sure I want to, to be quite frank. For a name to bring on such emotions from Malory, I’d wager he’d lash out if asked about it. Besides, why should I be the one to ask? You’re the one who wants to know,” replied Grayson.

“But you’re his closest friend.”

“And you’re his apprentice. It’s your job to ask him questions,” Grayson said. “If you want my honest opinion, I think it’s best you don’t bring it up. Some things are better kept private.”

Lafayette nodded and finished his drink in silence.

 

Curiosity did inevitably get the better of him, as it always did. It was another one of those times his mentor thought he was too reckless in a fight.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed you know!” Sebastian fumed as they made their way to the rendezvous point to meet with Galahad and Igraine.

“Mon général, you always say that. I’m a better fighter than you give me credit for,” Lafayette argued.

“It did not look that way to me when I had to step in and stop that rebel from stabbing you in the back! Had you maintained your position like I told you to…”

“There was a chance for us to push them back!”

“And you took it without looking around to make sure there was no one behind you! It was foolish of you.”

“But-“ Lafayette began.

“Not another word, Richard!” Right there, Sebastian’s whole demeanor changed, like it always had; he became unusually quiet and distant.

“Monsieur, are you alright?”

“Quite fine,” he whispered, not looking Lafayette in the eye once again. “We need to get to the rendezvous point.

“Wait, monsieur. Why do always act so strangely when you call me by the wrong name?”

“It’s nothing, Lafayette. We need to get going.”

“Monsieur, please tell what’s the matter,” Lafayette pleaded.

“Leave it be, Marquis,” Sebastian muttered, turning away from him. Lafayette knew better than to press on at this point.

 

Now Lafayette sat here, the golden gorget feeling tight and heavy around his neck, as he read his old mentor’s journal that had been saved by Nikola after Sebastian’s death. Most of the entries were recounts of typical mundane missions they did, but one passage in particular made his stomach drop.

 

_July 31 st, 1884_

_Typically I am good at keeping the past behind me, detaching myself emotionally from those I once cared for and keeping only a small memory of them. I’ve had to do this, or else the centuries would have been too much of a burden._

_But every once in a while, I’ll look at Lafayette and I see nothing but my son Richard. They are so similar; the same looks, the same personality, the same wit. Sometimes it’s like they’re the same person only born centuries apart. I’m sure they would’ve been good friends if they had met._

_Richard has been dead for 500 years and yet I will still feel the pain of grief. Sometimes I call Lafayette by his name, and I feel a deep ache in my heart. I can’t even bare looking at him afterwards I’m so ashamed._

_I often think about telling Lafayette about my son, but I’m not yet sure if that will ease my pain, or make it infinitely worse._

Lafayette had to promptly close the journal after reading it, lest his tears stain the pages and smudge the ink.


End file.
